[journal] Change in Season

Dear Diary,

The changing of the season is here— exciting, isn’t it? I could hardly wait for the first snow to fall. Looking up at the sky right now, it’s clear and bright. Sun rays penetrate through sheets of white clouds that hang high in the sky like a big sheet of cotton candy. Probably no snow today in the ocean, but perhaps it would snow in the arctic? It is always cold up there so I wouldn’t be surprised. Other arctic symprites may not be as excited for snow as much as I am, but after migrating down to the warmer biome with my family I couldn’t help but miss a thing or two about that winter wonderland.

A thing or two, yes. Other than the snow itself, perhaps I also miss a certain symprite as well. His fur is white and sparkly— glistening, even. With patches of brown dotted over his fluffy hair. He reminds me of a full moon with a bit of cloud wrapping gently over it, or like a cup of warm milk with a splash of chocolate. We were each other’s best friends when I was a young child and still lived in our family home with grandma. I remember it like it was yesterday, cold wind on our noses that would make us sneeze. When we play hide and seek I’d lose every time because as long as you hide your antlers, those white coats would make you near invisible in piles of snow. Even after the big move you’d still come down to visit me in the ocean, two arctic bappies splashing water about and having sand all over their fur was such a headache for my father, was it not? Sometimes I miss those days, too.

There is a certain price one must pay to follow their dream. If you look ahead and run as fast as you can, you’ll always be bound to lose track of things. You have your desire and I have mine, and I thought if I run far enough, climb high enough, surely we will cross paths again someday. I don’t know if I could say that I have ‘made it’ but right now countless symprites know my name. I am loved and adored. I got gifts and praises and their eyes are glued on me. I am dazzling, I thought. I have more friends than ever now from all around the places, but every time I am on the stage surrounded by colored light brighter than midday sun, I would take a glance around. I do not find you.

So much for fame and popularity. I thought that one day my old friends might follow the trail of newspapers and flyers and come to greet me with a big smile on their faces, but you do not find me. I would never fault you for it, though. You must have grown and matured as much as I do now, too. I listened to music in my record player today, the melody even reminds me of you. The season is changing now but the sky is clear, I hope that you are happy. But if there is a chance— my friend, I would love to run under our crystalline sky together again.  Funny how memories fall around us before leaving flakes of itself on the tip our lashes like the gently falling snow.

Yours always,

Orion